


In Which Baz Dies and Simon Mourns | or | Simon, You Useless Idiot

by Trash_For_Ships



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Blood and Violence, M/M, Wrote this as payback for fics by bazypitchandsimonsnow on tumblr, and better tags, canon quotes for extra feels, i hope you cry, i need to come up with better titles, kind of an homage to this fandom, the world may never know, there's probably so much wrong with this, well anyway, why does baz have weird blood?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 15:11:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14621328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_For_Ships/pseuds/Trash_For_Ships
Summary: It was only a matter of time, really.





	In Which Baz Dies and Simon Mourns | or | Simon, You Useless Idiot

Simon

The first thing I thought of was that Baz’s blood was black, not red. It was red before. I’d seen it before, when he’d accidentally given himself a paper cut a while back, his blood was red, red as mine is, why was it black? It pooled around him where he sat collapsed against the wall, and it’s on the window above him, which is cracked and it’s all smeared, slick and shiny and _black._

I didn’t even notice that it was black until I was crouched next to him and my hands were drenched in it, and the sight of it made me want to scream. Well- I already wanted to scream, but my voice was raw from our previous shouting match and-

I had let go, I had gone off and even in the moment I wish I hadn’t, because I’d gone off when I was mad _at Baz_ , and, and-

And now Baz was bleeding out and bleeding black and it’s _my fault._

 

Baz

 

Aleister fucking Crowley, this fucking _hurts_! There are spots fading in and out of my vision and my abdomen fucking burns. I’m barely conscious, but I can thank and curse the pain for that- and I can _thank_ Snow for all of this. The past ten minutes are playing on loop in a corner of my mind, and it ends with Snow shouting this inhuman cry and a flash of light, and me being blown backwards and then everything cuts from white to black and stays there for a long, long moment. I feel my nerves, already fried and frayed, jump again because it’s dark, and suddenly I’m back in that coffin and-

And I don’t even want to think about Snow.

And that’s when the world comes swimming back into focus, and Snow is right there, leaning over me, and he’s crying like everything he loved ever was just destroyed.

“Merlin and Morgana,” I start, and even just spitting those words out hurts even worse, then I’m coughing and I’ve wanted to die for a long time, but never this _fucking badly._

“ _Baz!_ ” Simon shouts, and he’s really fucking loud in my ringing ears and I have half a mind to tell him as much if I could ever stop coughing. “Baz, Baz Baz Baz Baz-” He goes on, quieter, saying my name like a mantra, like a prayer, and he’s still crying and my dead, dark heart lurches like it isn’t about to fall out of my abdominal wound. Or maybe it is. I don’t know.

I don’t know how I’m still thinking.

How I’m still alive.

How long I’ve got.

I’m finally done coughing and then I go and wreck it again with a hoarse “ _Snow_ ,” and I do my damndest to lace it with all the hatred and spite and fire that I can, and it still comes out like I’m begging him to kill me. I even lisp the S. My stupid fucking fangs must have popped at the smell of my own blood.

Fantastic. This is how Snow will remember me, his worst enemy, a pathetic vampire that begged for death.

Mother should have killed me when she had the chance.

It would have saved me the agony now.

 

Simon

 

Baz is still breathing, and he’s still alive, and that’s more than I can say for that poor Chimera, and _I don’t know what to fucking do_.

I’m still leaning over him, and I don’t even realize that I’m crying until I see the splotches of wet on his shirt, above where the blood ( _black, black, black_ ) hasn’t soaked into his too-posh clothes, totally wrecking them. I don’t realize that I’m saying his name until I finally lurch forward and wrench him close, my jaw moving against his hair over and over in a small, familiar pattern. Why does his name fit so nicely in my mouth?

Why is that the one thing that strikes me out of everything in this moment?

 

Baz

Snow’s just sitting there. Not casting healing spells, (not that he’d do any good) not calling for help. Just sitting there and weeping, like I’m somebody worth crying over. I want to tell him to stop, not to waste his time over someone he hates so bad. I want to tell him I love him. I want to kiss him, to die kissing him and say “fuck it” to the consequences because I won’t be around to feel them anyway.

My vision is getting darker and darker, and it still fucking hurts so bad.

Snow’s still crying, still sobbing my name.

It breaks my heart to watch, but I don’t even have the strength to move my head.

Suddenly, he pitches forward and pulls me to him, and breathing has hurt for the past- Merlin knows how long, and the movement has me shouting into his chest. It's like being shoved into a roaring fire, and every bit of me that touches him feels like it's burning, this horrible, wonderful burn.

I can hear his heartbeat, feel his blood pound when he presses me to his chest.

_You’re so alive, Simon Snow. You got my share of it._

 

Simon

 

I can’t leave him, I wouldn’t be able to do anything to help him, I can’t think of anything that could.

_Siegfried and fucking Roy, Baz, the one time I don’t want you dead_.

Maybe the one time I never wanted him dead at all.

I’m still sobbing, trying to hold him as close as I can, and between when his name falls from my mouth like rain, I manage to slip in an _“I’m sorry”_ every now and then, but it’s not enough.

It’s not enough to fix him, to save him.

He moves, squirms underneath me and I try to move with him, letting him go and move as he can. He’s still in pain, I can see it on his face, and it’s so fucking raw that I wonder how he ever hid that much emotion under that stoic, unflinching mask everyday. I could never do that. It’s like a switch, and he only ever flips it occasionally. Now, it’s like that switch has fucking broken, like the rest of him, and Baz can’t be bothered to care.

I look at him, and I want to kiss him.

And he moves forward, crashes into me-

And then _he_ kisses _me._

 

Baz

 

I always thought Simon Snow was going to die kissing me.

 

I always knew that Simon Snow would be the one to kill me.

 

I never realized that I would be the one to die kissing him.

  
_Simon Snow_.

 

Simon

 

I keep kissing him when he slows down. I keep kissing him when he stops.

It doesn’t work, of course.

What’s the use of blowing on a fire when the embers have gone cold?

He’s cold. Too cold, colder than he’s been the whole time.

His black blood is slick and oily on my lips, and I still don’t pull away from his.

“ ** _Baz, Baz, Don’t leave, I’m sorry,_** **_don’t go._** ”

I’m not even aware that I’m pushing magic into my voice. I’m not in control of it.

I don’t think I’ll ever be in control of it.

Not ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to bazypitchandsimonsnow on tumblr, who inspired me to write/finish this! And to anyone who made it this far, because I know that I would never ever ever read something marked "Major Character Death", like, ever. Hope you enjoyed!


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